


Hospital Vespers

by Skeletron



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Sad, Songfic, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4677974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skeletron/pseuds/Skeletron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human!Castiel is stricken with illness and in the hospital. Dean comes to visit him. Based on the song "Hospital Vespers" by The Weakerthans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hospital Vespers

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, this is based on the song "Hospital Vespers" by The Weakerthans. I'd recommend it to people who enjoy being sad, people who enjoy this fic, and people who didn't enjoy it but still want to hear the song.

Castiel didn’t look like himself anymore. Dean had seen him beaten and broken down many times, but it was never close to this. He wasn’t bleeding and ignoring the pain with fire in his eyes. The bony man in the bed looked peaceful, in the same way that a forest after a wildfire is peaceful.

_Doctors play your dosage like a card trick_

_Scrabbled down the hallways yelling "Yahtzee"_

Maybe a week ago, Dean would have made a joke. “Lookin’ good, Skeletor.” Something like that. Back then, he had no room to doubt that the former angel could pull through. Looking on him now, Dean tells himself that he’s still going to make it. There was no way Cas couldn’t make it. He won a civil war in Heaven, and that must be worlds more difficult than his cells waging civil war in his own body. The only thing that made Dean doubt was the doctors. Almost every other day, they would come back into Cas’ room and say, “We’ve gotten the dosage right this time, we’re absolutely sure of it, so we’re going to be administering the first treatment later today.”

If anything, Dean thought, they were doing more harm than good.

Castiel is asleep when Dean entered his room. He usually was, but sometimes he would catch Cas just laying there, staring right at him when he entered. “I knew you were coming,” he’d say, even though Dean never called in advance.

Dean came as often as he could, which wasn’t nearly as often as he’d like. Nine and a half weeks had been a long, dragging amount of time, and though Sam took on jobs alone to allow Dean visitation, Dean felt he couldn’t just shirk off. Next to that, he still believed Castiel would be his usual picture of health in no time, so for the first half of Castiel’s stay in the hospital, Dean hardly visited at all. Today, Cas was asleep.

_I brought books on Harper in the Arctic_

_Something called "The Politics of Lonely"_

It was Sam’s suggestion that Dean bring books. Dean had explained to his brother how boring it seemed in the hospital, so Sam gave Dean a list of recommendations that Dean took to the library. Of the entire list, Dean could only find three, but that was probably good enough. He set the books on Castiel’s nightstand and sat back in the chair next to the bed to wait for him to wake up.

Dean barely caught the fluttering of Cas’ eyes as they opened, and his own turned away from the gray view of the far wall of the room. “Dean?”

He only watched as Castiel lifted himself from his pillow, blinking slowly. The pace of the sick man’s breathing quickened as Dean finally met his gaze and responded, “Hey. I brought you a few things.” Castiel’s eyebrows knitted, a familiar expression made uncomfortable to look at by the gauntness and pallor of his unshaven face. “What are they?”

Suddenly feeling silly and sentimental, Dean coughed and replied, “Books. You know, just to pass the time. I mean, you said you can’t sleep sometimes, and that you get bored, so...” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Sam helped me out. I’m guessing two of them are on some guy exploring the Arctic, and one’s called...” Dean paused, picking the third book from off the stand and looking over its cover before setting it back down. Maybe it wasn’t such a good title after all. “The Politics of Lonely,” he finished.

He looked back at Castiel. A smile turned Cas’ mouth, sleepy but far more genuine than Dean’s display of calm. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

_A toothbrush and a Quick Pick with a plus_

_You tried not to roll your sunken eyes_

The smile betrayed a wink of yellow between Cas' lips. Dean dug the last remaining two items out of his pockets and dropped them on the bed. "You need to brush your teeth," he growled quietly, though Cas ignored the toothbrush and instead held the lottery ticket between his thumb and forefinger. His forehead creased. "Dean, what is this?"

"You can't pay your bills, Cas. They're big enough to touch the atmosphere." Forcing himself to be lighthearted, he added, "It'll at least be fun to find out if you win." Watching Dean's throat bob as the man swallowed anxiously, Cas didn't respond with anything but a smile. His first instinct was to correct Dean's unrealistic idea of Cas' life expectancy. "Yes. I can't wait for the winning revelation."

It was hard to move, and not just for Castiel. That smile was comforting in the guiltiest way. Dean didn’t need the reassurance. Cas did. _Cas_ needed it, but Dean couldn’t give any sort to him. With a slow rattling breath, Dean broke the silence that was difficult only for him, and asked, “How are you... How are you feeling?” He hadn’t asked that in a long time.

_And said "Hey can you help me? I can't reach it"_

_Pointed at the camera in the ceiling_

“Honestly?” Cas almost chuckled. “The worst part about this is that I can’t get any privacy.” He inclined his head toward one corner of the ceiling, behind Dean, so he had to turn around to see what he was talking about: a camera, constantly rolling. Also rolling were Castiel’s eyes, as if he were saying, _and obviously, I can’t cover it up myself_. “Hey, can you help me? I can’t reach it...”

His voice faded as he stared at Dean expectantly. He couldn’t refuse. The chair squeaked as Dean stood up and, for the first time in a while, he leaned over Castiel, and without thinking about it placed his warm, calloused hand on Castiel's shoulder and gave him an affirming squeeze. Without saying anything else, Dean carried his chair and placed it under the camera and stood on top of it. He cupped the huge lens in his hand, covering it completely.

_I climbed up, blocked it so they couldn't see_

_Turned to find you out of bed and kneeling_

“Hey, you probably shouldn’t...” Dean began as Castiel began to climb out of bed, but his voice trailed off as he stopped himself. No, Cas could do whatever he damn well pleased.

Even though Dean didn’t finish, Castiel bothered to answer as he carefully lowered himself into a kneel. “I’m not afraid of anything that could happen.” He was looking back at Dean, smiling for a few more moments before turning back and bowing his head.

Dean could hear every word Cas was saying, and even though the words weren’t meant for him, he listened with rapt attention.

_Before the nurses came, took you away_

_I stood there on a chair and watched you pray_

By the time he finished, Castiel’s legs had gone weak enough that he could barely support himself on them, and had only stabilized himself by leaning into the side of the bed. Breathing raggedly, he hoisted himself up and sat at the edge of the bed, still smiling at Dean, who wondered if he’d ever stopped. “Thank you.”

Swallowing to wet his dry throat, Dean answered, “Don’t mention it. Should I...”

“You can come down.”

Thankful, Dean let his arm drop and stepped off the chair. As he carried it back over and set it down, Cas began to test his legs, made weak by failed medicine and lack of exercise. Dean had to support him as he stood, which was just fine with him. A middle-aged woman with a clipboard opened the door, peeking through the crack before opening the door entirely.

“Mr. Winchester?” Her voice was hard. “Your treatment’s been moved up. I’m sorry, but could you please say goodbye to your brother?”

Castiel’s mouth opened, but he was interrupted before any words could come out. “Husband,” Dean lied a correction. The look on Cas’ face was priceless as he turned to face Dean entirely, allowing Dean access to quickly catch his lips in a kiss. It was brief, so as to not provoke the surly nurse, but it was something both of them would hold on to for a very long time. But when Cas kissed Dean back, he didn’t have a mind to regard the woman, who had to sit idly by and scratch her neck with her pen as the two of them locked themselves together, passionate and deperate.

They only pulled apart as the nurse, who spoke in a suddenly sterner tone, cleared her throat. “We would also appreciate it, Mr. Winchester... other Mr. Winchester... if you didn’t block the security cameras. That could be very dangerous, you know.”

“Yep. S-sorry.” Dean let go of Castiel after one last pat on the back, and helped him back into bed. He gripped Cas’ hand for the last time. “I’ll be waiting for you, for when you’re awake, hear me?”

The nurse gave Dean one last warning look, stepping away from the door to allow Dean through. Castiel watched his back disappear around the door frame, wondering when the next time he’d see him would be. Castiel sighed to himself as he watched the nurse add the anesthetic to the IV line. His eyes closed as he drifted into unconsciousness, the last noises he heard being people, doctors, filing into the room. Maybe this time, he thought, this new bittersweet closure could keep him from waking up again, and maybe Dean could finally let him go.

Dean hardly visited Castiel during the first half of his stay at the hospital. After that visit, he would have given anything to go back and never leave his angel’s side.


End file.
